Immortals
by Young Volcano O.o
Summary: 2103. Almost a century since the Apocalypse that wiped out the entire humanoid population. All but one... and she can't die.
1. Chapter 1

There is always anger following me. Wherever I go, it's there, like a separate entity seething within. I'd give anything to get rid of it. It usually feels as if death is the only option, to just let go of my destroyed, melancholy fraction of reality I have left.

There are days where I sit and let the tears fall in the loneliness. There are days where I have a mental breakdown and can't tell if it's left or right in which I am throwing my fists at walls. Then of course, the mental gems that occur most: complete, utter stillness, with thoughts that threaten to tear apart my sanity.

The flames roar to life in the fireplace parallel to where I sit. With my legs tucked back inside a soft black recliner, in the shattered remains of a hotel in New York City. At least, I've been told that New York is what it was called in its youth. It's always came across to me as a strange fact of the past, giving certain areas of land names. I have always wondered what "New York" looked like back when. Mom used to tell me it's been a good century, at the _least, _since more than a thousand humans walked the Earth. Though, to contradict this, her parents must've said it's been about a century, and then theirs. Who knows _really _how long it's been?

Mom's gone now, though. My brothers and sister and aunts and uncles and cousins and _family, _are all gone.

You'd assume that with an entire century of time, humans could've repopulated, but no. Too much sickness and security breaches by demonic creatures and death in general. There were only about a hundred living in the same place at once, enough to reproduce, but not enough.

A few months ago they got through to our base— I don't even know _how; _the security was as tight as a noose, I don't know how they got through, the demons. As far as I know… they're all gone. I escaped somehow— they didn't see me, or they didn't acknowledge me because I was one of the youngest adults with a brief understanding of the universe (not including little children) at twenty-eight. "What's some young girl going to do?" I assume they thought while contemplating my fate, if they had high enough IQ's to do so. I don't know. Regardless I got out, and I haven't seen another person since.

I suppose it's a good thing that they never killed me, but I've never necessarily been grateful.

For the time being, I reside comfortably in the thirteenth floor of the remnants of an apartment complex. Maybe tomorrow I'll move. I'm not sure… this place is starting to get a little dull. Colorless. I switch houses more often than I used to now, because my days (which, of course, could be my last at any moment, I'm aware) are uneventful if I don't do anything about it. I know that I have the ability to go _anywhere. _No more iron walls telling me where to go. The freedom, despite being a lonely freedom, is reassuring.

I pull a blanket around me and stare into the flames of the fireplace in the other side of the room. The sight of fire has always calmed me; that's why I keep my eyes orange.

My mother always told me that my disorder is a unique gift and I should like it after I was the center of attention while learning the names of colors in my primary school and they kept shifting. Then, I'd always retaliate that I loved it and I didn't care what my eyes looked like to other people. I've always thought this way. Others may pay a little more attention to you when you have a malfunctioning eye pigment disorder, maybe, but I've always enjoyed the little extra attention— and, even more so, changing them to black when people make me mad.

I slowly slip out of consciousness with the soothing crackle of the fire occupying my mind.

x-

At one point throughout the generally calm evening, I feel my breath has been restrained a little. Thinking nothing of it at first, I shift in my chair and try to fall back asleep. The restraint is hardly an issue, but suddenly a puff of smoke envelops my lungs. Alarms shoot off in my mind as I open my eyes and see this room is up in flames.

I jump off of the recliner and run to the opposite end. My hands shake as I pick up the black bag containing my most precious belongings (at one point was it brown, but the array of impurities it picked up have limited sight of any pigment). As quickly as possible, I throw myself out the door and down the many, _many _flights of stairs. Why on _earth _did I think it to be a good idea to take shelter on the _top floor _of this complex?

As I am doing so, with my long coat flapping behind me, floor after floor after floor… I'm _so _close. _So _close… when I hear a dark and bloodthirsty growl.

Relentless fear washes over me, and I repeat so many profanities in my mind it might just match the amount of floors in this building. I mindlessly turn the corner of the next floor and see three demonic creatures heading upward. I twist my neck and see the flames heading down the stairs.

Now I must choose: would I rather be mauled to death by bloodthirsty demons or backtrack into the flames above?

As I'm deciding my fate with one foot on the second to last staircase and the other on the second to last floor, my eyes fill with tears. This, right here, is where I am to meet my demise. The growling gets louder, the roaring flames rise higher…

And a demon latches its sharp teeth around my left calf.

Then, just as quickly, and just as suddenly, I drop.

For an instant, the fall feels almost _graceful_ until I hit the floor beneath me. The oxygen is knocked out of my lungs; and just as I am realizing there is one more floor, made of _tile_— The floor beneath me collapses again. I can't hold in a scream this time, but there is no air to fuel my vocal chords. They just crack and wheeze.

The demons died in the fall; the one thing that's gone well tonight. Though I haven't come out _entirely _unscathed either. I don't realize it at first. _Did I get away from this ordeal unscathed? I hope to _God _that_—

This is when I move.

It was the slightest of bodily shifts. My right knee bends upward and my left generally stays in place— yet it causes shots of pain down my spine and arms. I scream once more in untameable agony, and after a second thought I believe I yell the single word "Help" without necessarily intending to. Yes I know no one will hear me. Yes, I know that from my ribs down, there is a slab of concrete or wood or granite is crushing my internal organs. _Yes, _I know the fire is coming closer, and the building itself will collapse soon and reduce me to another pile of ashes and dust.

The door is _so close… _it remains roughly ten paces from my crippled form. With my current condition, however, ten paces is just as significant as ten miles.

"_MELODY!" _My full name rings out in the night so loudly, my ears start to ring even more so. I groan in response, before the realization crashes down around me.

_Aren't I supposed to be the only one left?_

Without thought, I take a sharp breath in. This causes an onslaught of disturbing, dry coughs. Within them, I make as much noise as I can— Wheezes, growls, maybe even hollers in their very worst condition.

Then, a warm feeling envelops my upper torso— a feeling I haven't felt in _so long. _There's a pulse, a heartbeat. This warm feeling is _alive_, and not the lifeless crackle of a fire.

A sharp tug rips my mind out of slight ecstasy, and out from underneath the slab up fallen debris I go. That was supposed to seal my fate right there. I fight for a moment, scared that this entity isn't human, but something _more. _

The next words I hear are exactly what I need.

"Mel! Melody, are you alright?! Oh, god, what have I _done…"_

I recognize this voice immediately. My eyes water— both from pain and emotion— and I utter a weak, "Ell…"

"Hang on, Mel, I'm going to get you somewhere safe. Oh, god, you're bleeding—"

Then, just like that, with no warning, everything fades into black.

**A/N: Here you are, the prologue to my next story :) I thank you all for the support in past projects I have completed, and if you enjoy this one, Leave a review if you'd like. It helps out lots :) I hope you all have been well, for I have not been necessarily active; I began High School a few weeks ago and didn't had time to type this up. Unfortunately, if you do indeed show interest in this story, my apologies, for it will not update as quickly as Savior or Salvation have. I must write it in script then translate it back to English on my laptop.  
>Anyway, thanks for reading! <strong>

**~Young Volcano O.o~**


	2. Chapter 2

Elliot, I met around the age of three, while mom was walking me to the schooling facility. We had lived across the street from one another for our entire lives; some of my earliest memories of childhood are sitting on the top of the fence barricading our world from _theirs. _The demons. An iron fence, with no holes, no hint of anything on the opposite side, thirty feet high all around with a ladder on the inside leading to the top. This sturdy fence was the difference between light and dark. Safeness and complete terror. Life and death.

Elliot and I laughed in the face of this barrier. After primary school, in the heat of the summer or the bone chilling winters, we'd sit with one leg safe on the side of our barrier, and the other dangling into an unexplored land. Land once native to our ancestors. Out hands would be placed atop one another's. Elliot always told me, "It's a safety thing. I'll catch you if you catch me." He, of course, later on admitted it wasn't for precaution. Even if it was, it wouldn't have worked; we were five years old with our heads in the clouds.

Over time, as our years expanded and we became older, we became closer. As anyone would expect, a relationship formed, as cliche as it sounds. We've been together for nine years. Then, of course, the biggest security breach of my time. The demons got through our stronghold and slaughtered the majority of us.

I thought Elliot was among those casualties, until right now.

I keep my eyes closed as soon as I awake. A hand is cradling the back of my head, combing through my dark brown, boy short hair. When the security breached I had _long _hair— almost down to my waist. I _had _to cut it if I was going to be roaming around like this, or it would've gotten everywhere and tangled into a massive mess. Only now am I realizing that Elliot will be _furious… _He hardly let me cut my hair. He loved it long.

"What did you _do _to your poor hair, Mel?" He whispers quietly, I'm assuming to himself.

I open my eyes abruptly and meet his ice blue ones. His slightly curled blond hair is now dark brown, with all the dirt that it has collected over god knows how long. He's still wearing the same red shirt he was the last time I saw him, the same baggy jeans, the same black high tops with a little circle and a navy blue star on the inside. It's still night time, or maybe a day has passed, I'm not sure. Regardless it's dark. We're outside, sitting next to a small campfire, hidden by an array of trees. Without saying a word, I take a long breath. What to say in a moment such as this?

He breaks the silence with, "You cut it."

Slightly agitated, I reply softly, "What was I supposed to do? Let demons step on it?"

Elliot chuckles a little. "I like it."

It's quiet for a moment longer. I look down at my hands. He looks down at his high tops. I try and shift my form, feeling no pain. I'd assume he would try and stop me… but he just _doesn't. _I glance up at him and see that he's looking at me, but throws his eyes in another direction a second too late. I sit up slowly. I try and prop myself up with my arms but Elliot supports my upper torso weight, so I don't have to. I'm not feeling not even a fraction of the pain I had expected.

Quietly, he mutters, "Mel, do you remember when you broke your arm when you were eleven? We took you to one of the doctors around town after an hour or two and it was broke clean and half?"

Slightly taken aback, I nod.

"Then… the next day it was just… _gone?_"

I do kind of remember. It was the weirdest thing; I went back into the doctor's because my arm kept shifting by itself under the bandage meant to hold it in place after I was diagnosed with a broken arm, causing a _massive _amount of pain. When I got there, the doctor couldn't feel anything wrong. After that, the pain faded, and it was if it never happened.

"Yeah." I clear my throat after a long minute. "Yeah, yes. I remember."

"I examined for wounds… there was a bite on your leg, and it's gone. Half your body was swollen and red, like a majority of your bones were broken."

As he speaks, I examine myself. My arms, my legs; the only thing I _really _feel any pain in is my ribs, which restrains my breathing slightly. I become a little frustrated. "Where'd they all _go?_"

"That's the thing! They're just… _gone._"

"B...but— I…" Having difficulty finding the right words, I quickly jump to my feet. Nausea and pain overwhelms my torso, and I stagger forward toward the fire.

"Easy," Elliot jumps up and wraps his thin, scrawny arms around me. He's so , and so thin… it's obvious he hasn't had a meal in a _long _time. I take the moment to pull him into a tight embrace.

"I thought you died." I murmur quietly.

"No… no, Mel, I'm not dead. I swear. I'm not dying anytime soon. I'll—"

Suddenly, he spins around, and yells in agony. Pain blossoms through my stomach and lower back, and I yell too. Over Elliot's shoulder, I do not see a demon. No, more of a _figure, _though just as pale and dead looking. The fire scarcely illuminates the form from however far away. The first thing I notice… its eyes are the same color as I keep mine— a muted sunset orange. Though, unlike mine, they literally _glow _color_._

"M—Melody," Elliot starts to collapse. I fall with him but do my very best to stop his blood loss.

"No. No_, _don't you do this! _Please!_" I throw my point of view up, and the figure is stalking away, back into the darkness.

I look back and Eliot's eyes are closed. I panic and rip my jacket off, pressing it to the front of his wound. Whatever struck us was strong enough to get _both _of us _simultaneously… _which means it went _all the way through Elliot. _

He grabs both my wrists and smiles lightly. "I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry…"

"Don't. Don't you _dare. _J—Just hang on!"

He blinks once, twice. Three times, and they stop halfway open. The spunky ice blue fades, and they seem to turn a stormy grey in the night.

I let out a half choke, half sob, looking at him and lifting my hands from his wound. "Elliot."

No response.

"Elliot! El, _please!_ Come on, wake up. I'm the only one left!"

I ignore the fiery pain in my stomach, but I take a moment to look down at it. Blood is gushing out and onto Elliot's wound. Tears streaming down my face, I climb off of him, pick up my jacket, and tie it around my own torso. When I'm finished, I let out my sobs into Elliot's neck.

My world, for the second time, is crashing down around me. I was going to travel with him… I was going to tell him the things I've endured while we've been apart, and he was going to tell me his endeavors. We were finally Finding him gave me hope… and some figure took it away.

I _will _get my revenge.

As I cradle my best friend, my love, my _live's_ lifeless body… the earth around me is pelted with a disheartening downpour, putting out the fire and equalizing the world in darkness.

x-

The cold itself wakes me. Shakily, I peel my eyes open and see Elliot's body. Slowly and without care, I take my arms from around his form and sit cross legged next to him. The morning fog says fairly close to the ground, making the temperature feel even more freezing. The leaves on the trees are just now beginning to change into beautiful shades of red, orange, yellow, and brown. I've always loved the fall… but now I'm getting the feeling I won't enjoy it was much anymore.

As I start to quiver in merely a long sleeved shirt, I look down at my jacket, wrapped tightly around my gaping wound. I might as well check it, because— god _forbid_— I don't feel a thing! I grumble ineligible words as I untie it, and sure enough, only a large scar has my stomach together. There's no pain, not even in my ribs.

I jump up. I'm a little dizzy, (though I presume that's merely from the blood loss) but I scream at the skies, "Why did it have to be _me _that heals quickly or wounds miraculously disappear or whatever? Why couldn't it have been _him?!_"

Trying to get my anger and frustration and pain out on the Earth around me will do nothing. Slowly, I look down at Elliot with tears in my eyes. His are still partially open. Taking a deep breath, I look into them for one last time, trying to engrave them even _more _into my memory than they already are, and close them for good.

"Bye, El." I choke out, and before I can change my mind, I grab my bag and shuffle off into a different direction, tripping unsteadily on my own feet, knowing the lifeless carcass is behind me.

**A/N: Death will be in the next chapter :)**


End file.
